Prince Of Akkaba
by Suavesky
Summary: Fifteen years had passed since light triumphed. And five since he had gone missing. When Dumbledore finally found the prophecy child he didn't quite expect this. Then again, no one ever told him what a hero was supposed to look like in the first place. Multi-Cross.
1. Spirited Away

**"**Speech"

_'Thought_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, The Dresden Files, Or any Marvel Characters used in this Fanfic._

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><p>The repetive clacking of high heels echoed through the immense hallways. They were for the most part barren except for a few scarcely scattered about photographs that lined the way. High archways streched overhead every set of five doors per wall. Mahogany polished finishes with gleaming crass doorknobs gave a picture of elegance.<p>

Jeaniveve Orberto had lamented several times on what she considered to be the largely unecessary size of this particular manor for a number of reasons. For one it was scarcely used, being occupied by someone other then the housing staff for only about five weeks out of the entire year. And for that matter it had never been formally _lived in_, the closest thing it had been used for something other then business had been a summer home in the early eighteenth century. The number of rooms was also something she found horribly wasteful. There were over twenty on any of the three floors not counting the basement. About ten of them had ever been used. It was a general waste in her opinion. Not that she was paid to have one in the first place.

She continued on for some time, angling down hallways and meeting only few people along the way, before finally coming to her desired destination. Another door no different from the rest. With's it's wood finish and elaborate carvings following the same pattern as the rest of the house no one would pay it any attention. But of course that was the point entirely. She opened the door without so much as a knock and crossed over the thresehold before closing it behind her. It was a small library. A complete study with three towering book cases filled to the brim with thick heavy novels. Three comfortable arm chairs were turned in full view of the fireplace which had been lit. The roaring fire surved to heat up the room comfortably, something that was pleasant in this cool night air.

"Madame Orberto."

She snapped her heels together and bowed deeply. Her eyes remained looked on to the flames, noting the dying embers that crackled in to the air.

"My Lord." She replied. "I have come to collect you."

"And for what reason?" Came the rich baritone reply with a slight hispanic accent. She paused as she rose from her bow and frowned lightly before it disappeared behind a calm visage.

"I was told by your associate monsieur Aldric to call for you at once." She paused again, seemingly unsure of what to say. "It seemed very important sir. I believe you should see it for your self my lord."

Alfred Montego looked up for the first time from his spot standing near the book case along the right wall. He wasn't a rather tall man but he was far from small, standing around five ten with lilthe. He was an older gentlemen, well passed his prime and in the mid fifties, with black hair already showing streaks of silver grey. His sharp beak like nose and thin lips were a contrast to his rounded ears. Tanned mocha colored skin reflected his portaguese decent. A slight line of white flesh circled the edge of one of his eyes, a scar from days long passed.

He was dressed as casual as he was going to get, which consisted of a white dress shirt and black slacks. In one hand he had a book, balancing the tome with ease and surprising strength, and in the other a small glass half filled with an amber liquid. It was his usual relaxation for the day, a drink with a good book. At his age he rarely had a reason to go out that wasn't business related.

Carefully he set his glass down on the edge of a shelf before slapping the book shut with a heavy thump. He slowly eased the large hardcover back in to it's place on the shelf before he retrieved his glass and downed the rest of the beverage in one gulp, ignoring the wince on the women's face. Taking two steps he set the glass on a small coffee table beside one of the three arm chairs before adjusting his cuffs and rebuttoning his collar. With a sweep of his hand he stepped forward.

"Lead the way."

* * *

><p>More then once Montego had wondered why he put up with this life style. For years he had driven himself to the point of exhaustion in service to those higher up on the "food chain" in hopes that it would do him some good. He had been forced to accept that he would never be given the respect he had originally been searching for. But what he did have he had most certainly earned.<p>

The Montego line had never been something of great value or position. True it had it's points in history and a substantial fortune, but for the most part it was simply a footnote at the bottom of the page. It was a line decending from a time when Spain was a global power, they had made their name in both magical and normal circuits through various trading ventures and they had little use for a squib child marring their pureblood line. So he was for the most part a piece of the furniture as he grew up. His two elder brothers had secured the future of the line for his parents and were powerful in their own right. And while he didn't necessary come away blessed with his families' magic he did have a bright inquisitive mind that served him well.

Around the age of eighteen he enlisted in to the French military, his father working as a member of the French ministry at the time. For years he slaved and bled, going through several bloody conflicts, for a country that he didn't really consider his own. But for all the things he regretted now he could without a shadow of a doubt say it had made him strong. And it was that strength that served him today.

His brothers had died shortly after his thiry fifth birthday. One of natural causes, a illness magic could not fix. The other of slightly more suspicious terms. He had never found out who had killed his brother but had more then a few suspects. The idea that a squib could successfully hold the family lineage together must have seemed like a laughable one at the time. And he was sure many still scoffed at the mere idea of a plain human holding a pureblood title. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to let his family legacy simply go to waste. Whoever had killed the true heir to the family had not gotten their hands on it's titles like they had originally assumed. He had been cautious, more then a few times escaping from perculiar situations that should have resolted in his death. His time in the military had served him well.

He walked behind his servent of over ten years. Orberto had been one of his two personal assistants, unable to hold the entirety of the family duty to himself. She had been a young woman with very little to do with her life but like most had learned the proper way to handle business. He had found use in that and had kept her along. He was sure for the most part that she wasn't actively trying to get rid of him for some higher political cause. But then again if it did happen he could only blame himself.

They walked through the twisting hallways of the manor and on their way towards the front of the home. This particular one was located in Barcelona, resting on a rocky overlooking cliff as magic had kept it's position secret from simple wandering eyes. He had always felt that the size of this particular house had been largely unnecessary. Personally he had been using it for business ventures over the past few years and even still didn't see the use in having a domain this large despite the fact that he frequented it more then his family ever did growing up. But even still it was one the stronger acquisitions from years of strong business and so he kept up with the maintenance needed to have it livable.

Before long they came to an end of their journey, a great entrance hall coming in to view after a turn. Standing before a pair of great doors was a man dressed in a large dark overcoat. Aldric had been a military superior in his early years before he suddenly dissappeard off the official grid. Only to show up again several years later with a job for him, citing he had been a good solider under his command. Alfred had always known that wasn't the reason he had choosen him but relented. It was the start of something more. Something very few even knew existed.

The man wasn't overly impressive. Italian, with the usual bronzed oil colored skin and shaded features. His dark eyes cut to Alfred as he approached and he nodded his head in what seemed like approval. It had been several months since the two men had met and the last time they did the Italian had seemed troubled by something, anxious.

"Montego." He greeted as he reached out to grasp his hand. Alfred glanced down before shaking it. "Good."

"Aldric, You came all this way for me?"

The man frowned before nodding stiffly. "Something like that. Or rather I came to you because of several important requirements."

Montego returned the frown. "Oh?"

"Namely your from a prominent magical family and your a careful man." Aldric returned, looking him dead in the eye. Montego smoothly ignored the fact that his family history was apparently out in the open to a non-magical. But for the most part he didn't care much, he knew more about magic then most people would ever know. How ironic it was that people lamented his inability to use magic when they didn't know the true nature of their supposed birth given right. He had seen things in his work. Things many should never have to. Things that had for the most part been kept a secret for the sake of others.

If only they knew what the term 'dark magic' really meant.

"Very well." Montego continued while ignoring the squeak his assistant made. Aldric had always known things he shouldn't have. Always. And Montego was smart enough to know not to ask for more information it. People got missing over things like that. Died over them. "I'm not sure I can help you however. As you know it's been some time since I've done any real wo-"

"This one is firmly within your ability. I assure you." Aldric cut in. Looking insistent. "In fact I've practically guaranteed you can do it. A mutual benefit."

Montego frowned deeper at the interuption but said nothing.

"Besides, I also choose you because I believe I can _trust_ you."

That one caused a brief flicker of a reaction other then dissapointment. Trust was not something you looked for, especially in his line of work. He had learned early on to never trust, to never expect things. It had gotten good men and women killed. And he knew for a fact he didn't trust Aldric. What the man was saying was alien. It was desperate. But the look in his eyes also said it was the truth.

Montego found himself without words this time and could only manage a slight nod for the man to continue as the surprise stilled his body. If Aldric noticed he didn't let it show and instead favored the man with a grim smile and a stiff nod in return. Again Montego was struck by how nervous the man was. It was unlike the veteran solider to be so uptight for what seemed to be a social call.

This had to be serious.

"I think it's best I show you-" Aldric stopped short and glanced at Montego's assistant. "I've put him in your greeting room."

He began to walk, swiftly towards the west of the house. Montego began to follow before he halted midstep. Alarm in his eyes.

"He?"

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><p>He was not what Montego had been expecting.<p>

It was but a babe and a small one at that. Aldric had taken a seat in an oversized arm chair and wrapped his arms around the small living bundle. It was wrapped in a red cloth that looked more like silk then cotton. Pale skin and black curls that flashed about in every direction. A simple baby, looking no more then a few months old. Montego was no experts in children, not having a family of his own, but had done more then his share of raising his brother's children in the years after their passing.

"What?" It was the only thing he could think to say. The only thing that would come out. Aldric looked up from the child with a grim smile and nodded.

"Yes." A flash of amusement showing, the first thing other then a nervous energy. "What indeed. This is him."

"A baby." Montego replied flatly, his accent becoming thick. English was really his third language and although he could speak it fluently most of the time he struggled sometimes to remain audible when his composure had begun to slip. "You've brought a baby here? Your own?"

A bark of a laugh escaped the man and he was sure the child would stir but it did not.

"Oh heavens no." Aldric replied with little mirth. "No self-respecting female would ever bare my children. You know that."

Montego didn't comment on that but instead nodded at the bundle. "Then why is he here?"

The amusement died and Aldric became nervous again. "Because he's the assignment." He paused. "I am going to tell you something Alfred. Something I couldn't tell you otherwise. People have been killed over this. Do you understand?"

The words were serious. Clipped. He had heard the same kind working in the military. Things marked out in files. Never to be read again. Orders no one wanted to remember. He thought he was done with them. Vowed to be. Apparently not yet. He glanced sharply at Orberto but the woman was already leaving. Hurrying to the door and closing it shut after her. Every door in the manor was equipped with a silencing charm, no doubt to hide affairs. They would serve his purpose.

"Very well." Walking as calmly as he could to another chair before smoothly sitting. "Speak?"

Aldric adjusted the bundle for a second before taking a deep breath. His eyes met Montego's for a second before glancing away again.

"I work for someone. Someone very important. Or rather a group of people." He glanced up again. "I always have."

Montego gave no reaction to what was probably an open decleration to treason. Aldric was from France and had worked in the French military for many years. This meant a lot to the right kind of people. Luckily for the man Montego wasn't one of them.

"Believe it or not, they are a group of great power." Looking down again as he continued on. "They are a proud group."

Montego frowned. "A magical grouping?" He wanted no part in magical affairs other then simple business if he could help it. And it would certainly explain how Aldric knew about his own heritage and families' position. However he was pleasantly surprised when the man shook his head.

"No." He pause and frowned before looking up and locking eyes. "A mutant grouping."

A heavy silence filled the air at the declaration and Alfred felt his frown grow even deeper. Mutants? Now that was not something he had been expecting to here. Like many others who had grown up in the military he had been briefed on the strange breed of people that were seemingly popping up in more and more numbers. They were only as unpredictable as they were dangerous and each encounter was met with severe caution.

Personally he had both worked with and against several of their ilk. Never being much of a religious buff, or for that matter caring about the origins everything else in the world came to be, he didn't have the fanatical hatred of their kind as many others did. Instead he took them for what they were as people.

"Strange... I've never heard of such a thing." He admitted openly. He would think another all mutant grouping would be major thing considering the serious danger they represented as individuals. The idea that there was a mutant group with ties in to the French government, even as low on the food chain as Aldric was, would be something that the world would have trouble excepting. Something Aldric apparently agreed with.

"Of course you haven't." The man responded. "No one has. They've managed to keep it secret." He paused here for effect. "For over five thousand years."

Montego blinked at that.

"They are, for the sake of simple clarification, the royalty of mutants." Aldric continued. "For years they've managed things from the shadows. In secret they've arranged the rise and fall of empires and countries. They've put leaders in to power and assasinated others. They've sheaperded technological advancements and scientific pursuits. From the assasination of Ceaser to the American revolution. From the cold war and back to ancient times." He sat back and adjusted the baby again. The look in his eyes growing in intensity. "They have always been here."

Alfred Montego sat back in his seat and gave an honest sigh of surprise and a mix of exhaustion. The idea played in his head. A mutant group of power and pursuation that had always been around? The idea seemed farfetched to say the least. And yet he could easily see it considering the world his own family had belonged too. The list of events that Aldric had given him were long and noteworthy. And for a group of mutants to have had a hand in each of them? A bold claim.

But he was sure it was also true.

This group predated many things. This group had power and sway over many events in history. This group was dangerous.

Aldric continued. "But like all groups off power the members have issues with the way things are done and seek to... Rectify these problems."

Alfred looked up again and nodded. He could see that too. They had problems. Also known as politics. Other wise known as people schemed. Sometimes known as the stuff that got his oldest brother killed.

"The difference with this grouping is largely vast in this way." Aldric paused and swallowed. "There is no real process of election per-say. Or accension. Because... The king is still alive." He paused again. "The king is effectively _immortal_."

Montego nodded again. That was something else that was not that hard to understand. He had heard of things with vast lifespans before in the magical world. For that matter the average magical person lived twice to perhaps three times the lifespan of a normal person. Whatever his reaction was surprised Aldric, but it wasn't that far fetched to be honest. Mutants were already a powerful race, vast and varying in terms of their abilities. If someone like the famed Magneto could literally hold the entire world hostage it wasn't so far out the real of possibilites that one of them could develop a vast lifespan.

His guest looked at him apprasingly, supposedly surprised by how he was taking all this before shifting the bundle in his arms in to a more comfortable position. Alfred felt his gaze being pulled back to the baby once more as the man adjusted his seating and the question of why he had been there popped up again. However Aldric continued again before he could voice it.

"There is a position of power open however as this king hibernates for sometime, for his life to continue I assume. In his stead he began a custom to determine leadership during the time he's gone. However, as opposed to other groups, this one encourages... Unsavory tatics." He glanced down at the ground as he said the next part. "They are literally where the term 'survival of the fittest' originated. They are encoraged to scheme and even kill during the time that he is gone in order to take control and gain his favor when he returns.

"I have worked for a specific faction in this grouping. One that, as I honestly believe, wants to change things for the better. They want to be free from the influence of this master for a number of reasons. But most notably is the fact that he practically abandoned them during the last significant crisis they were confronted with." Aldric paused here to catch his breath and Montego briefly chastised himself for not offering the man a beverage before he began.

"Do you require something?" He asked in an attempt to be polite. Aldric looked up at him for a second before shaking his head.

"No, I best to finish this story." He paused again and cleared his throat. "This interest has it's own resources and backing, as most in the group do. But they can not formally change things without being in the official position of power. And even then the majority would be too stuck in their ways." He glanced around for a second before turning his gaze to the wrapped blankets in his arms. "In order to take a position of power they have to follow tradition. But it is not as simple as that, they have no one strong enough to truly lead in both skill and strength. And many of their group are of the older variety. And it is because of this I have been commisioned with the most important assignment to date."

In that instant Alfred Montego understood. He understood it all. Someone had figured out what this faction was after and made to stop it. They were willing to go to extreme measures to do so. And although his work in politics were non-existant at best he knew the way things worked if only from his father's examples.

"The child." He commented. Aldric nodded.

"Yes, but this just isn't any child Alfred." He began. Slowly he adjusted the bundle of cloth and managed to rest it against one arm. He pulled it aside and revealed the small youth's face, chubby cheeks and small nose included. Then he locked eyes with Montego for a second before reaching his hand up and brushing away the slight fringes of hair above his forehead. Montego frowned and leaned forward. His eyes tracing the curve of the babe's face-

Then he stopped. And frowned to himself. Leaning forward to make sure he had seen in properly. Something flickered on the edges of his mind and he struggled for a second to bring it to the forefront. It was a story he had been told not several months prior. About a crisis affecting the English and much of France...

"That boy." He murmured as his eyes traced the marking on his face. "It can't be."

"I was told that this baby had significant value in your magical world." Aldric began as he sat forward and leaned out of the chair. Taking careful steps towards the man as to not wake the child. "And I would venture to say your reaction justifies that claim."

"This is the British's young hero." Montego said as he sat up and too rose from his chair. "The one they talked about not to long ago." And indeed were still talking about. He cared little for politics and scheming of magical means but he knew them, he had to. For several years before Another 'dark lord' had risen in the english magical society. But this one hadn't just disappeared like the rest. He had supposedly a great deal of power and used it in such a way, dragging French ministry in the conflict not long ago. Supposedly a terrible human being that most would argue was not human in the first place.

And then came the reports. That several months ago he had been defeated. That he had supposedly been stopped by an unlikely foe. A baby. The British had claimed with pride that a baby had stopped a man that had caused them much heartache and pain. It seemed stupid. That a child could do something like this. But here was that supposed boy, with the now legendary scar adorning his forehead. Shaped like a lightning bolt. The child who's parents had become martyr's for their deaths.

"I do not know the entire story." Aldric began again as Montego stepped forward to exam the child. "And frankly I do not care. But from what I do gather he did a great thing for your kind. Something that can not be explained by your magic." He nodded to the baby in his arms. "But can be explained by his blood."

Alfred's eyes shot up to meet his. "He is a mutant?"

Aldric nodded before he began to shift the child. Raising it up to rest it's head on his shoulder. Gently he reached up to the cloth on the child and pulled it away, peeling back the wrappings before pulling at the white shirt the child wore. Montego stared at the bright red markings adorning the child's back from nearly one end to the other. A series of shapes consisting of four triangles, two lines, and a red circle in the middle. It looked to be a tatoo of sorts. A tattoo that covered nearly every inch of the child's back.

"These markings are put on each child at birth." Aldric explained as Montego examined the markings. "A tatoo that was put in place before the parents even knew it. The size of it as you see is rather obvious. A sign of how powerful his blood is. Where as his mother had no abilities and thus no markings they moved this one to the upper back of the child. A large mark needing clothing for covering. Painful for the child no doubt but among them a mark of his potential, gauged by several high ranking members under the guise of checking the child for disease. It shows his significant value in more ways than just power."

They locked eyes again. "For this mark to be so large it implies that the child's lineage is closer to the king than most left these days. There is a good chance that he is in fact a direct descendant from a time when the blood was more widely spread. A rare find since their near destruction nearly three centuries ago at apparently the hands of a vampire cult." He frowned. "Or so the story goes."

Montego sat back down as Aldric relaxed the clothing and bundled the quiet child up again. His mind lost in thought. Mutant powers were a mystery to all. And it made perfect sense that the secluded nature of the magical community had not yet encountered them in mass or began to study the new race. They had no science. They only took to what they understood. And those things they didn't were classified as 'dark'. A ridiculous notion to say the least but just another sign at how backwards they had become.

But even still the more he thought about the more Alfred could see the mystery being solved. This young mutant child of apparently high blood had been born with his gift as opposed to coming in to it later on in life as apparently most mutants did. And as such had seemingly been able to surprise this perspective 'Dark Lord'. The question now was just what the child was actually capable of. Aldric watched him for a few moments before he began to speak again.

"I was given this boy by a high ranking member, who said he'd rescued the child from an unfit enviroment for any child least of all this important one. He said the guardians had been family of the mother's, adoptive I assume, and didn't hesitate to _sell_ the child Alfred." He emphasised the word. "They feared the child would grow in a detrimental enviroment. Never mind a strong one, it wouldn't be normal even. Thought to be abusive by the state of the other child living there."

Montego said nothing in return. It would not be surprising given what he had heard. The mother was supposedly a muggleborn, magical from natural parents. Which meant the odds that her family also were magical were non-existant anyway. Animosity would be naturally formed between the siblings and dumping the magical child upon the family was not the smartest thing to do, especially considering they would be a mutant. No doubt someone had simply assumed the family were anxious to take on another child.

"I was tasked to take this child someplace safe. Already the boy has enemies, both magical and in his own bloodline. They would like nothing more then to see the life leave the child's eyes. They would not hesitate to kill the child themselves." He took another breath. "They originally only wanted the child to be brought in to the fold if necessary. But given his situation that is impossible now. He will need protecting and training. Or else he will die."

Montego stared at the man for a second before turning around and walking back to his chair. He sat in it with a huff and sigh as the weight of the words began to fall on to him. He knew what the man wanted to ask. And everything told him to say no. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Partially because it was an honest request from someone given a seemingly impossible task. And also because he had become so bored since his retirement.

"I'm not sure I am the proper choice." He began softly. "I do not have magic of my own to teach him with, something he will need if the rumors of his own skill are to be believed. And if they really wanted him dead I'm not sure I could protect him. For that matter I feel the forces stacked against him are far more overwhelming then you think. Those from his own country would seek to control him if they can. Or maybe even hurt him if they can not. I can not protect him from them by legal rights."

"They have no legal rights Alfred." Aldric answered. "He was literally _sold_ to us by his legal guardians. By all intent and purpose he belongs to us now." He paused again. "You have lived your life as best as you can. Helped to raise the children of your two brothers. But never before have you married and had children of your own. In a way this is your chance. He will live with you. Be your own. And I will intervene only when asked by my superiors. To take him for training in his mutant abilities.

"He will be your heir."

Montego went silent again at that. It was true he had never gotten the chance to have a proper relationship. And for the most part he had been more then fine with it. But there had always been one thing that he had wanted more than anything...

Against the forces that pressed at his thought he relented.

"Very well." Montego suddenly said in a voice that was surprisingly calm to even himself. This was a big responsibility. "I will agree to these terms."

"You will not regret it." Aldric replied with a slight smile. "You will not regret it."

And so it was by that the legendary Boy-Who-Lived was adopted by a squib. And his future fell in to the hands of someone who would not tolerate failure. But in this instance it was probably for the best. With all of the people would seek to harm him he would need the disipline that only a man like Montego could teach.

* * *

><p>The timing of these meeting annoyed him.<p>

It showed his lack of power. He was used to being in charge, making the rules. When he asked for a meal his servants jumped up to attend to it. When he requested a meeting his secretary did everything in her power to make it happen. Before, the number of people who he answered to were few and far between. And even those who were technically his superiors took a certain caution to his words and actions. He had built his name and brand up in that way. His words carried weight and his name provoked a reaction.

Except for here in his own home.

On the surface, to visitors, everything seemed perfectly natural. He lived in a nice home. He had ample servants, both human and house elves, who catered to his every need. A personal chef. A fully stocked pantry and cellar filled with fine wine. Even a library with a number of tomes and a study where he conducted business. It was a house that was modest compared to the people he surrounded himself with in the public eye and yet still showed that he was well on his way up on the social and political ladder.

But it was all far from the truth.

The truth was he was only the second in command. There was another living in these dark halls who's will extended far beyond his own, one who ordered him instead of the reverse. An individual who decided what he did with his days and who he spoke too. Someone who monitored his every waking action and dictated how he conducted his life. A presence who had directed his meteoric rise in the world outside of these four walls. A dark presence.

One that his ambitious father had personally invited.

Alexander Montego II calmly slid the door to his study closed behind him before striding forward in to the room. Standing off to his left stood a man dressed in an immaculate white suit with expensive cream shoes to match. He was beyond tall, enormous even, standing well over six and half feet tall and weighing clearly over two hundred and eighty bills. His broad shoulders clearly blocked the window from view and his large hands were balled up in to fist nearly the size of an average man's head. He was bald and although he could not see his face Alexander knew from memory that, with the exception of two finely trimmed brown eyebrows, the rest of his profile followed in turn.

The minor French noble of Spanish decent glanced in his direction as he rounded the corner of his desk.

"Would you like any refreshments?" He asked as his right hand reached out and pulled his leather chair free from under the desk.

A snort greeted him in response as he slipped down and began to make himself comfortable.

"Why do you insist on asking?" The voice as deep and rugged. It matched the man who produced it perfectly. Too perfectly one would say. "The answer is always negative."

Alexander pulled himself closer to his desk before laying his hands across it. "It's simply a common practice. To be courteous to one's guest."

The chuckle that followed rumbled across the expanse between the window and the desk. Alexander suppressed the usual shiver down his spine that accompanied the sound. It was sinister in nature. So much so that even after hearing it for years he was unable to maintain his composure. Another sign of his weakness compared to the one before him.

He hated it.

"A human practice then? More useless questions with answers that don't matter."

The eldest of the Montego triplets shrugged his shoulders although he knew his guest could not actually see it.

"Just the way we are raised in polite society."

"_Nothing_ in human society is polite." Came the retort as the man finally stood to his impressive full height. "At any rate we've wasted enough time."

Alexander nodded his agreement. "Then I'll begin. I've followed your channels and made contact."

"And I am to assume they agreed?"

"Yes." Alexander responded. "I was surprised by how quickly I received a correspondence to be honest."

"You shouldn't have been." The large man lightly chastised. "They have little to lose and much to gain with this particular endeavor."

The French man could not prevent the frown that crossed on to his face even if he tried. This was one of the things he hated most about dealing with this one. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to figure out where the directions were taking him he always ended up a step behind. And although he usually hated to admit any sign of weakness he could not allow his pride to stop him now.

He had been waiting too long for this particular part of their plans.

"Then if you would kindly take the time to explain it further I would be most appreciative." Alexander requested while shifting in his seat. "Usually I can just take your word for such thing and follow directions well enough without questions. But this time I really feel like I'd be more comfortable if I were filled in on the details that are usually glossed over."

The large man froze before spinning on his heels to look at him. Alexander resisted the urge to swallow nervously as their eyes met. His benefactor's were a stormy gray color that always seemed to hold something sinister lurking beneath the surface despite his calm exterior. It was another thing that unnerved Alexander about dealing with him.

There was a brief moment of silence that stretched between them where Alexander had assumed that his request would land him in deep trouble. But to his relief the hulking individual averted his gaze with a nod before beginning with his requested explanation.

"It's rather simple when you know what to look for and who you are dealing with." The deep rumbling response began. "On the surface it may seem like an alliance. If a small one. But truthfully it's an opportunity for blackmail. At least to their perspective."

Alexander remained silent despite the fact that simply the idea of an alliance with these creatures made his stomach turn.

"There was once a time when the Black Court ruled nearly all of the European countries from the shadows. Fear had become their hallmark and their influence had stretched in to the darkest corner of the world. They were arguably the most powerful faction on the mortal plane with a few exceptions." The guest continued. "But about five centuries ago all of that began to change when information on their weaknesses became nearly common place. Even now simple mortals speak in jest about the best ways to deal with them without even realizing that the information that they were holding had nearly toppled an underground empire."

Still the Montego house's heir remained silent. This was something else he didn't know about. But than again just a few years prior he didn't even know about the existence of a good deal of human magic that had purposely been kept from his people by the various ministries in the world.

"The White Court is widely expected to be the source of this information leak because of their rapid rise to power in the world of human politics in the Black Court's place. But that isn't overly important to us. What is important human is the fact that the Black Court has been on the edge of destruction for some number of years now. A fate they have avoided due to secrecy and the pure savagery of their more experienced members.

A war has broken out recently between the White Council and the Red Court in the past few years. A war your various ministries have been hard pressed to keep from the public. This in it self isn't overly important due to the Black Court beyond the necessary obligations needed to assist their more ruthless Red Court counterparts. However it does give them an opportunity to make subtle attacks with a rather useful scapegoat to cover their tracks."

Alexander sat up straighter in his chair as he took in the words and processed them as quickly as he could. He had heard nothing from any of his contacts in the higher ranks of the ministry about any potential war going on. And even if it didn't involves his government directly he was still surprised at how quiet it had been kept.

The larger man continued. "Recently there has been a change in a faction of the Black Court. New leadership has risen to power and is favoring a more aggressive stance of re-expanding their numbers under the cover of the Red Court's attacks. It's bold and working. But even still more numbers alone aren't the only thing necessary for them to return back to their former glory." Their eyes met again. "They need real power. Political."

The Montego heir didn't need to hear anything more and instead frowned at the prospect that he would be their chosen route in to the French ministry. It rattled him to think he was betraying his race for something he wanted personally be at the moment he couldn't say anything for fear of insulting his guest. Something that he knew better than to do from experience.

"The attack will be placed off as another random act of violence while succeeding in moving you up with little to no foul play expected. They'll essentially be preforming an assassination for you with the a favor as payment. Something we can deal with for now until you gain the necessary influence and strength to get rid of them in their own time." A pause here. "And all you have to do at this point is to be patient and continue raising your profile. Everything else will fall in to place in the end."

Alexander nodded. "Very well. I will stay the course as you have requested."

"In the meantime there is business I will attend to personally. Contact will be made per the usual avenue when the time to proceed further come about." The larger man shifted as he turned his attention back towards the window. "Now if you'll excuse me human I have more important things to do then to explain things to you any further."

Alexander Montego said nothing as his guest calmly removed himself from his the room. An explosive sigh of frustration slid from him a few moments after the door had closed. His heart pounding in his chest at the idea that he had again survived another meeting with his benefactor. Something to be said considering past experiences.

_Forgive me father but I don't intent to end up like you._


	2. The Lost

**"**Speech"

_'Thought_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, The Dresden Files, Or any Marvel Characters used in this Fanfic._

* * *

><p>Sirius Orion Black resisted the urge to sigh in irritation as the door to his study slipped open without so much as a knock. His coal colored eyes snapped open as he sat up straight in the high backed chair that seemed more fit for a throne room than an office. In truth he despised the damn thing almost as much as he hated the entire house. It, and the accompanying desk, were a symbol of everything he grew up resenting. It was old, obstinate, and lacking in any real style. Made sometime in the seventeen hundreds it went against the grain of everything he had come to stand for as a man. And yet he could not bring himself to part with it considering it's place in his families long history. The irony of the situation often made him shake his head.<p>

Standing across the expanse of his desk with hands on her hips stood what most would considering a young woman despite her age of only fourteen. She was what most would call rather pretty. A slender and youthful looking blonde with flaring hips and a frame that had already begun to fill out. Her small mouth with bright pink lips and delicate looking nose shared the expanse of her face with two slightly canted bright blue eyes. Her long hair, usually resembling the smooth flowing current of a river, was tied in a tightly wrapped pony tail that fell to the small of her back.

She was taller then most her age and yet didn't seem to have the gawky or awkward manner that many teens did. Instead the girl stood with the confidence befitting someone of her blood stature. One of the few things Sirius could stand about the steadfast pureblood customs were the way they seemed to inspire courage and confidence in their youth. It was something, perhaps the only thing, he had benefitted from growing up.

As a result of such lessons, courtesy of the one cousin he could stand to be in a room with, she shined like a rare jewel no matter where she happened to be. This was the type of young woman that many wives in high society talked about over lunch or young man spoke about in private. The type that in his younger and wilder years he would have been watching from a distance for her to grow and ripen before reaching out at the right time like plucking an apple from a tree. Now she was his most precious treasure and he would do whatever he could to keep his one and only daughter out of harm's way.

Sirius watched as she cocked her hips to the left before jerking her head to the door behind her.

"The old man is here." She said with general disinterest. For the most part she was the soft spoken sort who rarely talked unless spoken directly too, another positive in the pureblood circles. But there was a quality to her voice that showed up only when she raised it high enough. A rich throaty tone that slipped in to the ear as easily as water fell to the forces of gravity. He knew that soon enough her laughter would stop conversations cold and draw wandering eyes.

A frown slipped in to place at just the thought. This was what he deserved for playing with the hearts of young girls during his school years.

He briefly considered chiding her on the proper word choice and showing respect before dismissing the fact almost as quickly as it had come. Honestly he didn't give two shits about how she talked about his unwanted guest. When once he would have been affronted at the use of such casual disrespect for his old school headmaster he had found that over the last few years he had developed the same kind of disregard for the man that she was now casually showing.

With a sigh that gave only the slightest bit of insight on to how tired he really was the head of the Black family stood up from his desk and polished the rest of his scotch off. "Of course I don't have to guess more then once. He's always here about the same thing."

"Ah yes." Came the lazy drawl that was more of a learned behavior then something natural. It seemed to be all the rage in the pureblood circles. "He's after your money."

Sirius snorted as he pulled on the sleeves of his shirt and stepped from around his desk. "Your money too. Mostly yours considering I'd never let them get anywhere near the family vault." He stopped beside her and glanced sideways before grinning lazily. "After all, your trust fund has more then enough to give."

Striding from the room Sirius let his grin spread in to a full blown smile as her eyes went wide with surprise and indignation. It was a simple jest of course. He wouldn't be giving anything to the old man period. But he found that every once in a while a good joke was worth seeing his usually calm and collected daughter become unbound.

With that little pick-me up Sirius stepped through the hallways and down the stairs until he reached the main drawing area of the old and dark house. Passing the large curtain covered wall where his mother's hideous picture hanged in silence (For now) the usually lively man schooled his features in to a mask of stone as he glanced about for his guest.

As expected the 'old man' in question had taken the time to make himself comfortable. Albus Dumbledore was a legendary figure in the world whose name usually inspired an overwhelming sense of awe when ever it was brought up. His story was that of a war hero and magical savant who had, instead of trying to forward his own goals, used his talents to shape the lives of the young. His eccentric attitude and bright smile were the only thing talked about more than his brilliant mind and skill with a wand. He was one of the world's foremost alchemist and an honorary grandfather to generations.

There was a time when Sirius had been one of those people, a period when he had idolized his old school headmaster and would have done nearly anything to gain his approval. That time had long sense passed away in to painfully memories of a naïve young man with too much confidence in himself. His blind reverence of the old wizard had led him to year stuck in the a cell of arguably the harshest prison on the planet and the loss of his one godson.

It also taught him to make his own choices.

Albus Dumbledore looked up from his spot seated in a comfortable arm chair as he approached. The half moon spectacles that had become a fan favorite had slipped further down the long nose as his aged blue eyes peered over to take in his appearance. He was dressed in what could only be described as a pair of pajamas that should have been thrown out a long time ago. The once vibrant and twinkling stars that dotted the blue clothing were now dim with age. They reminded Sirius of the man himself. An old star that still tried to burn.

"Sirius!" The old man's lips peeled back in to a smile amongst the mass of hairs that made up his long flowing beard. "There you are! Looking well I see."

The old Gryffindor nodded respectfully. "Good evening headmaster. How have you been?"

"Fine, just fine. Although I do find myself unreasonably chilly for this time of year. Perhaps it's another sign of old age? Shivering in the summer time." His lips quivered at the joke. "But at least I won't be too warm."

"Certainly not." Sirius commented with a grin. He wasn't really amused but it would seem rude to stand there stone faced. "And there isn't anything wrong with having lived a long life."

"My thoughts exactly! Though many would disagree." He seemed to shake his head. "I say it's the opposite. After all they say youth is wasted on the young."

Sirius shrugged with the grin still plastered but choose not to say anything more.

"But that's besides the point. Not why I choose to bother you on this pleasant evening. I also see young miss Black is sporting a slight tan. How was your vacation?"

"Sunny and filled with alcoholic drinks for me." The dark haired man replied. "Greece is wonderful at this time of year. I suggest you visit."

He had become something of a traveler over the years stemming from his brief incarceration. He had promised himself while stuck in that cell that if he ever had the chances he would do things how he wanted too. And not even a baby on his doorstep fourteen years ago had stopped him in that pursuit. Every year the moment school ended a trip soon followed.

Live life to the fullest. That had been one thing he had promised to teach his daughter.

The old headmaster shook his head. "Oh no. The days of vacations for me have long since passed. Although in my youth I did travel searching for rumors of a gorgon. Fascinated by all things in muggle mythology during those early days. It always tickled me to hear how they explained things they could not understand with rumors and legends."

Sirius nodded along with him while wondering how many centuries ago had the old man actually been referring too.

"I've come to find from my own experience that muggles do come up with the most amazing ideas." It also entertained him. "But I'm sure that's not what you've come here for." He said while redirecting the visit back to the point at hand. He had been back for only two days after a two week hiatus. He really didn't feel like playing twenty questions with the old man.

The smile slipped away quicker than he had expected. The old wizard nodded slowly before sitting up straighter in the arm chair. His blue eyes seemed to come alive as his gaze snapped up to meet Sirius' own. The dark haired man had been quick to raise his mental defenses the second he did. His time in Azkaban had been more than enough incentive to expand on his poor grasp of the mental arts. Now he was confident in his ability to keep even this man out if need be.

If the old wizard had been planning a mental probe or had been surprised by the wary nature of the younger he didn't show it.

"I'm sorry to say I've come bearing some bad news." The headmaster began. "Something that I thought you had the right to know about."

Sirius stood up a little straighter at the serious nature the conversation had suddenly taken. "Alright then. What is it?"

"There has been a death recently Sirius. Or rather deaths I should clarify. Three days ago in fact." The old wizard said. "No one you or I know personally. It was only a muggle family you see."

"Oh?" The confusion in his voice was evident. He didn't really see why this was important. "What's so significant about it?"

"Who." Came the immediate response with hard eyes. He paused here to collect himself. "It was the Dursley family Sirius."

The man froze in place as his eyes went wide with surprise. "The Dursley's?"

"Yes Sirius." Dumbledore replied with a small nod while maintaining eye contact. "The entire family. Including their fifteen year old son little Dudley." Another pause as the man seemingly hesitated. Sirius spoke up before he could begin again.

"Was it murder?" He demanded with a look in his eyes that now matched the older wizard's. "Were they murdered?"

The old headmaster seemed to look over him before he nodded. "We believe so."

The Dursley family. Some of the worst people he had ever had the displeasure of knowing. They were crude, mean, violent, and rude. They were the complete opposite of the usual pureblooded bigots Sirius had been forced to encounter over his years. Where as most in the higher tiers of his world despised any and everything about their regular human counterparts, the Dursley family hated magic and anything to do with it. They had been obsessed with the idea that anything abnormal was wrong. They had lived in a suburban neighborhood with the typical boring house owned by boring father who had a boring job to provide for his equally boring wife and son.

They had also been the only family of one of his long dead best friends.

The idea that someone as brave, beautiful, and brilliant as Lillian Potter had come from the same stock as her hideous and scatterbrained sister had always baffled him in more ways than he could count. They had been polar opposites of one another but his friend had loved her sister more than she probably should have. But than again that had just been part of her charm. She had always cared too much for her own good.

Of course now was not the time to dwell on the past. It was what had just happened recent that was important. And for as horrible as the Dursley family had been he could only think of one reason why anyone would take the time to actually murder them all.

"I don't need for you to keep going." Sirius said quietly. "They were searching for him."

Dumbledore nodded firmly. "My thoughts exactly."

Sirius sighed as he stepped further in to the room an took a seat on the love seat opposite Dumblefore's arm chair. There was only one thing someone could be looking for from the Dursley family. Information. Information they didn't have anymore and hadn't for over a decade.

It was the kind of information that had freed him from the prison cell he had been sentenced to rot in. The same information that had brought Dumbledore to personally enter the dreaded magical prison in search of him. The information that the old man had demanded with furious eyes and a crackle of magic so powerful that it could be physically felt on that cold night so many years ago.

Information that Sirius hadn't been able to give him.

In truth it was that desperate desire for information that had led directly to his freedom. If his old transfiguration teacher hadn't taken it upon her self to check up on the Dursley family unannounced after only two weeks they would have possibly never had known about his godson's disappearance. Which would have meant Dumbledore would have never suspected him as a source for answers. Which also meant he would have never been dragged out of his cell and force fed the truth serum that in the end proved his innocence.

It had given him his freedom. But at the same time he had lost something much more important to him.

It had been months later during another failed night of searching that he had stumbled in to a bar with the intention of drinking his troubles away. And it was there that he had come across a woman that would one day many months later knock on the door to his house before vanishing into the night before he could even find his way down the stairs.

That night Ambrosia Black had come in to his life.

Ironic in hindsight how his daughter had been delivered to him in a basket with only a card bearing her first name. Ironic because apparently the old idiot seated across from him had done the same exact thing to his young godson when he had left him in the care of the Dursley family all those years ago.

He shook his head. He was getting lost in the past again.

"Did they suffer?" Came the quiet yet firm question. His heart sank in to his stomach as Dumbledore met his gaze head on again before slowly nodding.

"It appeared that they had been... Tortured." He replied quietly. "It is fair to say that Petunia Dursley took the worst of it."

Sirius didn't even want to think about what that meant.

"Are we sure that it-"

"Was one of magical blood?" Dumbledore cut in. "As sure as we can be. There was very little magic over all but someone had to have taken the wards down. I was out on business at the time so the instruments that I left in place to monitor them were left unattended."

_Unsurprising._ Sirius thought. The ward left in place weren't anything to write home about. They were weak and in all honesty only set up for this particular instance. Not that he blamed the old man for that. The Dursley family had been given the chance for more powerful wards, arguably the most powerful, and hadn't hesitated to turn the opportunity down. In a way they got what they deserved.

That still didn't mean he had to like it.

"I take it we don't have it anything to worry about right now?"

The old man tilted his head. "I don't believe so. I personally preformed the memory charm and it appeared to hold strong when I last checked years ago. I don't think we have anything to worry about." He frowned. "But the fact still remains that we've allowed someone to get this close in the first place."

The Black family head nodded again. The attack happened in the first place because someone had found the connection between his godson and Dursley family. Overall that may not seem like much, after all the entire world seemed to be after any information they could find on his whereabouts. But the fact that they were murdered so brutally meant that someone had been expecting more than what they had managed to gain. And that the person who had been searching had not been doing so because of they wanted to thank the young man.

They had hoping looking to kill him too.

"Do we have any leads? Any idea as to who?" Sirius questioned and was not surprised when the man shook his head.

"None what so ever." Dumbledore responded. "They had left very little evidence behind and we wanted to keep this as quiet as we possibly could. I was the first to find out and took care of any necessary precautions before calling for the proper authorities. Amelia Bones believe it only an attack of random wizard violence on the family of a former student. Not even she knows exactly who the Dursley family had been related too."

_And she never would._ Sirius thought grimly. _Because that would bring more questions we don't need right now. Not to mention the fact that she probably just didn't care beyond doing the due diligence of her job._

After all, what was one family of pathetic normal people?

"We of course will be doing our own digging." His old headmaster continued. "As well as increasing the actual search." The search referring to the hunt for his godson. The national mystery that found it's way in to every paper despite how long it had been. The same questioned had graced the lips of nearly everyone at some point or another over the past decade and more recently within the last few years.

Where was Harry Potter?

Of course they had been searching themselves for much longer than the ministry. But even still they hadn't been completely prepared for the outcry that followed the day the general public had found out about his godson's disappearance. The day Harry Potter had failed to walk through the door of Hogwart and in to the care of the great Albus Dumbledore had been a horrible day indeed. A group had marched to the door of the ministry who had in turn marched to the office of the headmaster demanding answers. Like a true and experienced politician Dumbledore had managed to deflect the blame and keep his name out of the spotlight despite the fact that it could be argued that he had been the number one reason that his godson had failed to show up.

It also didn't help that he himself had been once again public enemy number one. His apparent public trial and ruled innocence had apparently not been enough to dissuade the notion that he was responsible for the boy's failure to show. Nevermind the fact that he had his own child to watch after now and had done much for charity in the time since his release.

It would be the fifth year now. And just like the four prior Sirius was expecting the dark glances and mutters that would meet him as he stepped on the train platform at the end of summer. And the three weeks after that would paint him in a horrible light. And the months later that would question his place in society. It was the same old song and dance every year as the people fretted about his godson's safety.

There would of course be those that would argue that the boy was already dead. That he had been found long ago by supporters of the nefarious dark lord and murdered as a young boy in a twisted ritual as revenge for their lord and master. A claim that was disputed due to the fact that the Potter family vaults were still listed as active in the famous wizarding back of Gringotts. Although the knowledge that they would be closed and the funds liquidated if the line were to end had been calmly glossed over by the paper each and every year.

Other would say that the boy was a being held against his will. That he was a slave to some family in the a far off backwards country. Some said he was squib that was forced to hide out of shame. Some called him the next dark lord in training. Some even argued that he was secretly a young lady attending the school in plain sight as a result of a potion's experiment gone horribly wrong.

Sirius had nearly heard them all.

"I've got some contacts that I've recently made." He started again. "They could be of some use. I'll see if any of them have heard anything."

Dumbledore's smile had returned. "Excellent." He stood up from the arm chair as easily as if he were a teenager. "In the meantime I'll be making some minor contact with past order members. Just to touch bases with each of them."

"Of course." Sirius said with a matching false smile. "It would be good to have everyone on the same page. See if any of them can put together any ideas."

The old man nodded slowly as he locked eyes with him again. "And of course if we hear anything you'll be the first to know."

"The same with you Albus. Anything and I'll let you know right away." This seemed to appease the old man as the smile widened somewhat noticeably.

"Then with that said I'll let you get back to your evening. Goodnight Sirius and tell Ms. Black I said the same to her."

"Certainly Albus. Do you need me to walk you out?"

"No need my boy. I know the way." And with that and another nod Albus Dumbledore departed from the front door. Sirius stood in silence for a moment before shaking his head as he started to replay the conversation.

Things were starting to move it seemed. Something he had expected years ago. Which was why he had chosen to increase his profile as much as he possibly could while taking an interest in things he would have never seen himself meddling in twenty years prior. It had actually been on one of his own personally journey's while his daughter had been away for the year that he had come across his biggest secret. One that he had been keeping from the old man for a while now.

After all. There was no way in hell he would be telling him that he had come across his godson only two years prior.

* * *

><p>It was a seedy little bar. The kind of place that only those with the most shallow pockets and even more shallow morals would feel at home. The walls were dirty, the chairs ragged, and floor full of scuff marks. Even the bar it's self seemed to be made of a wood that had began to rot long ago. The area surrounding it was nearly as tattered as the establishment seemed to be with numerous run down apartment buildings and condemned business.<p>

All together it made for a perfect place to hold a meeting.

Alfred Montego sipped from his imported beer as he calmly looked over the two men seated across the battered table before him. They were the inconspicuous types. The clothing they wore was a sort of casual slum look that would easily fit in with the surrounding locals if not for the fact that everything in their body language said the opposite. The two men were too stuffy and their gazes were tinged with disgust as they observed their surroundings. It was clear to anyone who knew what to look for that these were two individuals who were used to avoiding places like these as if black plague was involved. In comparison Alfred himself was at home, having rested at or taken leisure at even more rough locales. Were they cringed and vibrated with nervous energy he remained relaxed and clearly at ease.

It was the exact response he had been expecting when he had chosen this locale.

_Seville_, like many places in _Spain_, was beautiful city with an equally rich history to match. It's sub-tropical climate and close position to the _Guadalquivir River _made for a strong living with the right knowledge. Fine works of art and a number of equally impressive landmarks dotted the landscape of the port city. An ever expanding infrastructure and bustling economy brought modern comforts to visitors on vacation. It was a good place to raise a family or even start one. But even the most beautiful places in the world hid a dark side behind the veil of comforts. And this part of the city showed that not everything was alright.

This city reflected life in ways that few others could.

"Mr. Montego." One of the man began. He was the slimmer of the two. His strictly eastern European features seemed to stand out in this environment. His cropped black hair and neatly trimmed mustache were both filled with more product than Alfred was sure was healthy. "I'm not sure you understand our concerns."

Alfred resisted the immediate urge to snort at the suggestion. It was impossible misread what they had been saying. He just wasn't in the mood to cater to their ever whim like they were apparently expecting. The idea that his simple refusal to fulfill their every request was enough to cause such an irritated reaction was reason enough alone for him to smile. But the added fact that they had actually requested a meeting with him to "Voice Their Concerns" are what took the cake.

As calm as before Montego took another sip of his beer as he moved his gaze to the last member of their little party. This man was the complete opposite of his partner in nearly every way. Where the first had been slim and spoke with dignity and class that pointed towards some sort of higher education the only words this one had uttered were followed with a grunt after each phrase. He was a large burly man with wide shoulders and bulging biceps. His bald head was a sharp contrast to the scraggly beard spread across his face. The definition of hired muscle.

An attempt to make him, _Alfred Montego_, seem small. Standard intimidation. Useless on all fronts.

"I disagree." Alfred finally responded after some time as he set his beverage back down. They were speaking in English with little fear of any of the few surrounding patrons listening in. "I understand them quite well. I've always understood them. I'm just choosing to ignore your request."

Obviously not the response they had been expecting. The slim man narrowed his eyes as his larger companion seemingly growled. This time Montego could not withhold the snort of amusement as he threw his gaze towards the man. Pathetic.

"Mr. Montego." The words were clipped now. Filled with the stirrings of frustration and anger. "My employer does not take the word no for an answer in matters such as these-"

"Your employer." Montego cut in himself with a flat tone that belied his own annoyance. This was not funny anymore. "Is not here. Furthermore I can tell already that he did not tell you in detail what it is your actually here for. You are a mouthpiece and nothing more."

The eyes of the slim man widened in surprise. Clearly not having expected to hear those words. Alfred continued.

"You see, they never expected any different an answer when they sent you." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "In fact I'd be willing to wager they are waiting for a phone call from you as soon as your are clear of this establishment. And one of the first things they'll be asking is _'Was the boy present?'_."

The surprise was even more evident now. Montego knew his words had been dead on then.

"Since you will be forced to disappoint them I'll add something on to it." He leaned forward in his chair to look the slim man in the eyes. "They choose to leave him with me. He is my heir now. _My son_. And as such all things related to him have to go through _me_. I have received no real information concerning what they hope to accomplish with him at this point and time."

The larger man had by now adopted the same look of surprise. Clearly this had not been what they were expecting when they were told of their assignment for this trip. Not that Alfred cared what they had been used to. He was not here to cater to their expectations.

"And at any rate I've given your employer more than enough of a reason. But just so we are perfectly clear I'll repeat it one more time. My son is currently studying abroad. He was gifted with the opportunity to receive instruction from a highly regarded individual and graciously accepted. While he is receiving lessons he is also working on several exercises that I've drilled him in for years. When he does return some time in the next two months I will personally meet with your employer before turning him over to them." His eyes hardened. "That is all I will say on the matter at this point. When we need to speak further I will be the one to initiate a line of communication. Not the other way around. Is that clear?"

There was a brief lull as the words took their time to seep in before the slim man seemed to snap out of his trance. He glanced sideways at his equally surprised companion before turning his attention back to Alfred. Slowly he nodded his understanding.

"It is Mr. Montego." He finally replied verbally. "Although I was warned you would not be so easy to sway I will admit I did not expect this sort of reaction. With that being said I know when there is a lost cause. I will return to them with this information. Although I should warn you they will not be pleased in the least."

He shrugged. "I'm sure. I'll just have to deal with that."

The man regarded him with a long look before he gave a small shrug of his own. "Then we have concluded our business for this evening. I bid you farewell."

And with that the two men left after setting a few euro on to the table. Montego watched them go before letting out a sigh of annoyance and shaking his head. He hated dealing with people like that. And although he knew he was playing with fire giving an answer with that much of a kick to it there was nothing he could do about it. Those people needed to understand that he didn't roll over when they ordered it.

Standing the man set a few of his own euros on to the table before making his way out the door. The cool late August air was a pleasant contrast to the smoke filled confines of the bar. He took a second to take a deep breath before casting a glance around him in suspicion. He wasn't sure if or when these people would retaliate but he would be damned if he was caught of guard. Confident he was safe for the moment Alfred Montego traveled on through the cool night and towards the bright lights of the greater city.

Unaware of the pair of eyes that lingered on his back.


End file.
